Nerd Rage!
by Blue Flaming Wings
Summary: It was a simple matter, really.


Nerd Rage!

It was a simple matter, really.

All he had to do was twitch his index finger. A soft, gentle brush against cold metal, then the rifle would jerk, there would be a loud bang, and then a man's (no, not a man, not anymore) head would explode in a shower of blood, gore and cranial shards of bone.

See? Killing is easy.

From where the boy stayed crouched (God! He's never sneaked around crouched down like this so much before in his entire life! Already his calves were burning.) and hidden behind a faded wallpapered corner, a hunting rifle, with his name, Aar, carved on its side, nestled in his bandaged hands, eying down the iron sights through the scope, the young teenage Vault Dweller had his aim centered perfectly on a Raider's mohawked head. The Raider was standing still of all things, leaning against a wall that lead to the bathrooms with a cigarette hanging loosely from his lips.

On the ground, on top a mattress, was a headless and limbless corpse of a woman, with her skirt hiked up to her hips.

The Raider's gaze passed over the corpse, letting out a puff of smoke, as he continued to scout the area.

Suddenly, just like that, Amata's pained screams rose to the forefront of Aar's mind, and her features merged, flawlessly, in his sight, with the headless corpse. The dried blood around it was the blood that dripped down her chin, was the fresh blood, soaked on his hands as he struck Officer Mack again and again and again. The blood was overwhelming, the blood on her, the blood on him, the blood of the corpse, the one laying on the ground by the Raider the ones pined to the walls and ceiling and the ones trapped in cages, hallowed eyes staring. All reeking, all rotting, filling the Super Duper Mart with a gut – wrenching stench. The sounds of creaking wooden planks as the Raiders paced above the aisles, the unmistakable smack of flesh on flesh further in, sick laughter, the red flicker of the Nuka Cola vending machine to his right, all consumed him in a instant.

Consumed him and left nothing behind but the red.

Red.

All in red.

Bang.

With a single flick of his finger, Aar became a killer.

"What was that?" A voice shouted. But Aar was already jumping to his feet as the Raider curved around the corner, attention so focused on the dead body near the bathrooms that he didn't even notice the boy by his side. It was simple. So simple. All he had to was pull the trigger (does that even count as a _pull_?) and another would be dead. But he didn't do that. He didn't _want_ to make it easy.

The butt of his hunting rifle smashed into the Raider's skull.

The Raider barely had a chance to scream, before his head was smacked the other way. There wsa a audible snap that time, but Aar kept going. Dropping the gun, he grabbed the Raider by the neck and slammed it into the vending machine. But now it was no longer a Raider – it was Officer Mack with his baton – Aar jerked the head back and slammed it – it was the Overseer, sneering down at him with disgust when he had asked to play with Amata – a jerk then a slam – then, finally, it was Butch. Butch here, Butch there, Butch everywhere. Butch sneering, Butch spitting out, "Aar the pirate! Aar the pirate! Pirates aren't suppose to fucking cry, loser!" As he and his cronies kicked Aar, naked and soaked from a bucket of cold water splashed over him, again and again as the boy curled up in a ball, willing the pain (the pain, the _pain_!) to just go away.

And just like that, Aar was broken out of his reverie.

There was blood everywhere.

There was blood splattered on his armored jumpsuit, dripping slowly down his sides and onto his legs. But it was his arms that did the trick, extended out as they were into the hole he had punched, literally, through the glass paneling of the Nuka Cola machine, the hole which the Raider's head had disappeared into. Most of the blood was probably the Raider's, but the very real pain in Aar's arms told him that he had not gotten away unscathed.

Slowly, Aar withdrew his arms from the machine. Almost immediately he regretted it, for the movement also caused the shards of glass in his arms to dig deeper into his flesh, quivering all the while. But, despite the pain, Aar's arms came out, and, along with them, the Raider's face.

Or, what was _left_ of it.

At that moment, Aar heard a snap, one that was as cleanly audible as the snap from before when he had broke the man's (because it had been a man – no, it _wasn't_ – yes, it was … damn!) but it was different. Internal. It was the sound, the sensation, of the Red snapping, shattering around him like the vending machine's glass had shattered. The stench of this place – no – the sheer _existence_ of this place, this hellhole, slammed into Aar with the force of a hammer blow.

His knees buckled.

Aar crumbled.

On all fours, he vomited. Till his stomach was empty, he vomited.

Till the cold metal of a gun's barrel was pressed against the back of his neck.

There was a sense of finality about it all.

Logically, he should have been scared. A gun was pressed against his head, after all. At point blank range, by a Raider no less. Aar knew it was a Raider without even having to look. Even if he could not _smell_ (And God only knew how often he wished he could not over the past week) that would not have mattered. Raiders had a certain feel about them, Aar would learn. Already he could sense them.

Then, the Raider spoke, "You murdered Ripper, asshole."

Two things simultaneously struck Aar at that time. The first was the rather inane thought of, _What sort of name is Ripper? _But after that was another thought, perhaps just as inane, but deeper, and far more … primal.

_I did what?_

The Red, that had shattered so smoothly before, began to grow within Aar again. Slowly at first, or as slowly as a feeling can grow in the span of a few seconds, before gaining strength , to finally erupt from within. "I did _what_?" Aar repeated out loud.

The Raider was thrown off guard, Aar could practically – no – could feel it. The Raider was thrown off because of Aar's tone, because of his sudden change in atmosphere. Suddenly, the boy was free, unfettered, and Aar calmly stood up.

"Wa – wait. Wait! Who – who said you could – "

A single glare from Aar made his words die on his lips.

The first thing Aar noticed about this Raider was that there was no hair on his head. Whether it be from balding or because the man – it?- shaved it off did not matter. The effect was the same. Though the Raider was young, he looked old. Though he should be healthy, he had the pallor of a addict, a so called "jethead", like Leo Stall, but, far more importantly, were his eyes.

The eyes of a monster.

And yet he dared!

The Red swallowed Aar whole.

He took a step forward, "I did _what_?"

The Raider took a step back, licking his lips, "You murdered – "

Aar didn't even know how he did it, but a strange weapon was suddenly in his hands, a chainsaw-like sword, and, if the Raider's reaction was anything to go by, it didn't know how Aar got the weapon in his hands either. Almost instinctively, Aar was revving it up as he began to walk towards the thing. That was when Aar said it, the words that would haunt him.

"In order to murder someone, don't they have to be _human_, first?"

The Raider had been pale before, not as pale as Aar, of course, but sickly pale nonetheless. But at those words every speck of color drained from its face. The Raider took a step back, then another, then, he turned around and ran, fleeing towards the door, shouting as he did.

"Stay away from me. Stay away from me!"

And, because he turned around, he never saw Aar descend on him.

Because, in the end, killing was such a simple matter, really.


End file.
